


You Were Mine

by tjmystic



Series: Birthday Fics [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gold returns to find that Belle isn't quite the same</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Mine

You Were Mine  
Birthday Fic #7

Rating: NC-17, but not for a reason you’re gonna like

Warning: muddled consent

For undergreatwhite: Hook convinces Belle that they’re married/engaged/otherwise together while they’re in the hospital together; when Gold comes back from his trip with Bae/Neal in tow, he’s absolutely heartbroken ; anon prompted: voyeurism 

Author’s Note: I apologize to fuckingnamechoise, who already wrote this fic – I’m not trying to steal your thunder, dear, and even if I was, I’d hardly succeed; your writing is far superior. This is just a prompt from my husband that, apparently, my brain decided needed to be more angsty than it already was.

Oh, and the awful song Hook mutters is a real “bawdy tavern song” called “A Keyhole in the Door”.

 

To say that the ride home was awkward would be an insult to every other awkward moment in history. 

Emma, having refused to let anyone else drive her Beatle, sat stone-rigid in the driver’s seat, eyes flashing back and forth from the rearview mirror to the street. Henry was almost backwards on the passenger side, leaning into the backseat to ask awkward questions of his newly discovered father. Things like, “So, why did you let Emma get arrested?” and “Are you dating anyone now? Because mom’s single.” Neal was a good sport about it, at least, laughing heartily and answering as honestly as he could. 

All while Gold watched his little boy – a man now, no thanks to his father – trying hard not to break and wishing he could find the words to speak. 

“So, uh,” Bae – he might go by Neal now, but he would always be Bae to his father – eventually mumbled. “What else have you been doing for the last three-hundred years or so? You know, besides making that curse you told me about?”

He wanted to answer, he really did. How could he not with his son looking at him so hopefully, begging to be let back into his life? But he couldn’t think of a single damn moment from over three centuries of living. All of it withered down to only two people anyway – Bae… and Belle. 

The moment her name floated into his brain, bringing with it the agony he’d barely suppressed over the last few weeks, a large brick building loomed into view. Storybrooke General. The hospital his Belle was currently being kept. 

He vaguely heard his son mutter his name, but, as he still couldn’t come up with anything good enough to say, he let the soothing voice wash over him without taking it in. Bae – the only person he’d have dared to tear the world apart for – was back. And it still wasn’t enough. He needed Belle, too.

The name “Gold” so often felt like a hollow shell to him – now, greedy bastard that he was, he felt that it fit him perfectly. 

“What’s wrong?” Bae muttered again. 

Gold pressed his callused fingers against his son’s for comfort, but otherwise sat still as a statue, gazing listlessly at the hospital as it zoomed past. 

Vaguely, he realized that the sheriff’s gaze was honed in on him in the rear-view mirror, no longer on his son. She looked… strange. It was rare that he saw anything but hate or annoyance in her eyes, so it took him a moment to place that strange sensation – she was mournful.

“Your dad’s girlfriend got hurt.”

“Oh, ok- WHAT!?”

Emma slammed on the breaks, causing Gold to bang his head on Henry’s seat. Much as it hurt, he couldn’t help being a little grateful for the distraction – thinking about Belle for more than seconds at a time made his soul itch like a cauterized hole. 

“What the hell, Neal!” Emma shouted, whipping around in her seat to glare at him. 

Bae didn’t pay her any attention – his focus was set entirely on his father, an odd combination of worry, amusement, joy, and disgust on his face. “You have a girlfriend?”

He was usually so good with words – something about having his son and Belle so close and still too distant made all of those skills scatter to the wind. 

“I… I did, Bae,” he finally muttered, blinking long and hard to drive off the tears. He’d only cried once since they’d rediscovered Bae – he wouldn’t give himself a headache by doing it again. 

For whatever reason, Miss Swan cursed under her breath and spun the car around, wheeling it quickly onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital.

“Emma?” Henry asked curiously.

She shot her son the first real smile she’d worn all day. It didn’t last long, but Gold could appreciate the effort. 

“I need to check on Greg,” she drawled. ”See if he’s ready to get out yet. You can come with me. But you two,” she glared at father and son as if they were snakes, “need to find somewhere else to be. Got it?”

Gold almost laughed. It wasn’t saying much, but she’d already surpassed her father in the art of subtlety. 

Neal leaned forward, an apologetic look in his eyes, but Emma and Henry had already slammed the doors behind them. Henry turned around once to wave, but Emma marched on without once looking back. Gold’s heart lurched into his stomach. His son had become the one thing he never wanted - a mirror image of himself. 

“Well, uh,” Neal started, opening his own door and stepping out, “let’s go meet my new mom!”

Gold laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. ”If she’ll still have me,” he answered. What he meant was, If she ever remembers me.

Bae noticed, but he tried to keep the conversation light. “Well, either way, it’s good to know you’ve still got it. Like father like son, right?”

“I never had it to begin with, Bae,” he grimaced. “And let’s hope not about the latter.”

Neal quirked his head sideways, a tic he’d seen young Henry perform many a time. He felt increasingly dull with every similarity he noticed between the two. He focused on the whoosh of the automatic door instead - at least he understood how it worked.

“You don’t want me to be like you?”

Gold actually stopped at that, so quickly that his cane squeaked against the tile. “You thought that I would?” he asked in bewilderment. 

His son stopped, too, but he only shrugged in response. Gold sighed – the Bae he knew, the Bae he remembered, was so much more open with his emotions. What had he done to his boy?

“Bae, I left you. And not just that, but I left you alone in a world you knew nothing about. You had no one for God knows how many years, and it’s all my fault.”

Neal shrugged, but there was a weight behind it that made him look like he was sinking. 

“Yeah, well… we can fix that later,” he muttered, voice calm but eyes bitter. ”You destroyed worlds just to get me back and apologize. Am I happy about that? I don’t know. But I’m willing to give you another try.”

Gold didn’t know what to say, a feeling that had become uncomfortably familiar. 

“I… thank you, son. It’s more than I deserve.” 

Some of the iciness left Bae’s eyes, and he slowly swung his arm over his father’s shoulder. ”We’ll worry about what you deserve later.” 

He smiled in return, widening when he realized they’d reached Belle’s room. He would’ve made a quip, or maybe a serious warning about Belle’s mental state instead, but the moment his eyes locked on the cot, his words once again left.

It was empty. She was gone.

“Ah, Mr. Gold,” someone called nearby. It took him a moment to recognize the voice of Dr. Frankenstein. ”Good thing you’re here?”

“And why would that be, dearie?” he growled. His hands were already starting to spark - if something had happened to Belle, the doctor would be the first to pay.

To his surprise, Whale’s face broke into a broad grin. ”It’s about Belle. Gold, she’s all better now.”

Gold internally thanked his son for the arm around his neck - he would’ve fallen over otherwise. ”She… she remembers me?”

Whale nodded. ”She remembers everything. We were just as shocked as you. She was picking up the pieces of that cup and suddenly it all came rushing back. I’d like to take credit for it, like to say it was science, but…” He droned off with a shrug. ”I guess it really was magic.”

He didn’t stop to think of how strange it was for Victor to admit to being wrong. He had his son back, he had his love back - for the first time in his life, he could put things back together. 

“Where is she?” Bae asked, taking his father’s silence as his cue to speak up. 

The doctor looked at him curiously for a moment before turning back to Gold. ”I don’t know where specifically. She just said she was going to wait for you until you came back.”

Gold shook, ready to run off after her, but Bae’s presence was heavy at his side. He couldn’t just leave his son, but when he saw Belle again… well, his son wouldn’t want to witness what happened, he was sure. 

“Hey,” Neal muttered, nudging him with his foot. ”I’ve got my own estranged family to spend time with. I can spare a few more hours without you.” 

“Are you sure?” He had to be - he wouldn’t just leave his son behind again. ”I won’t go if you don’t - “

“Papa.” Gold almost didn’t hear him his voice was so quiet, but there was no mistaking what he said. For the first time in three centuries, his boy had called him Papa. ”It’s fine. Really. The three of us will catch up later.” 

Gold smiled brightly, hugged him tight around the neck, and disappeared without another word. He had all the permission he needed. He had a family again. 

Neal laughed as the dark cloud rose around his father dragged him away. He hadn’t lost his touch, it seemed. 

His laughter took on a weird echo, though, as if someone had dubbed under it with another voice. The hairs on the back of his neck brushed against his shirt, and he spun wildly to find the source. 

It was the doctor. Or someone pretending to be the doctor. Neal didn’t know that much about the man, but he was relatively sure that he didn’t make a habit of turning into a woman. Especially not an older woman with curly brown hair and the wickedest eyes he’d ever seen. And that was comparing them to the Dark One’s himself.

“Oh, this is delicious,” the woman chuckled, looking after the smoke as if Neal no longer existed. ”Just wait until he sees.”

Neal didn’t make a habit of hitting women - maybe it was the hint of the old world left in his soul, or maybe he was secretly a better man than he acted. He wasn’t sure. But something about this woman, something about the way she laughed, had him pushing her hard against the wall. 

“What did you do to him?” he growled, something of his father’s accent slighting his own words. It only happened when he was angry, and, now, he was furious. 

“What’s it to you?” she smirked, unperturbed by his violence. ”I’ve just taken out one of this world’s greatest enemies. Surely you should be thanking me.”

She’d sent his father to be slaughtered. Maybe not literally, but Neal could tell he’d be destroyed when he came back. He shook tight against her shoulders, pressing her down as hard as he could. 

“What did you do?” he repeated.

The woman didn’t seem intent on answering him. Instead, she lifted her hand and placed it piercingly over his heart. He sneered at her when her arms jolted back, electrocuted. 

She looked fearfully at her empty, unglowing hand, and Neal didn’t hesitate to pin her to the wall while she was out. His fingers dug into her throat while she clawed at his torso. 

“What is this?” she gasped, banging on his chest with her claws. It wouldn’t enter - his heart was safe. ”Who are you?”

He bashed her head against the wall, his glare even harder than the plaster. A real smile covered his face as he leaned in close. 

“I’m Rumplestiltskin’s son, you bitch.”

———————————————————————————————————————-

Gold reappeared in a staggering blast of red smoke. He stumbled through the trees, almost falling over the dense ground, but he was too determined to find his Belle. What she was doing in the forest to begin with was beyond him, but he didn’t pause for questions.

He recognized the path to his cabin almost instantly, and his heart soared with the idea that she’d be waiting for him there. She’d be afraid to go back into town, of course she’d want to wait for him at the scene of their first true kiss. The memory brought tears of joy to his eyes, and he raced ever faster. 

“Oh!”

Gold’s heart lumped into his throat – he’d recognize Belle’s voice anywhere, even with only a single-syllable exclamation to go by. 

“You! It’s you!” she squealed, her voice absolutely ecstatic. She was waiting for him. She remembered, and she was waiting for him. 

“Belle,” he sighed, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. He couldn’t wait to see her face. He’d grab her as soon as he saw her, hold her tight and never let her go. He’d give in to her desires to be with him, even though he feared, now more than ever, that it wouldn’t be good for her. They’d be together. They’d never be alone again.

The cabin stretched in front of him, a paradise now that Belle waited inside. He slowed down just as he reached the edge of the clearing, half-expecting her to come running out after him. They’d hold each other close, and he’d get to feel whole again. He’d make her feel whole again. 

But she didn’t come. And, once he was close enough to see the east side’s floor-to-ceiling windows, he understood why.

Belle’s ivory breasts were plastered flat against the glass, rosy nipples peaking perfectly in the center. A small wet patch streaked the spot above her mound. He could feel himself hardening at the sight, stunned to see his Belle laid out so bare before him. He’d never seen so much of her body on display before. This was truly a gift to be cherished, a memory he’d want to be seared in his mind forever.

Or it was, until he realized why she was rocking against her reflection, why she was screaming instead of running out to meet him. 

Hook’s face leered over Belle’s shoulder as he pounded her into the surface, violently slapping her flesh as he went. Belle’s eyes watered with tears. This wasn’t love making, it wasn’t even sex – Hook was fucking his Belle against the window.

He fell on his side, eyes burning. He didn’t realize what had knocked him down until the rancid stench of his own vomit filled his nostrils. He puked again as his darling girl’s screams echoed in his ears, begging Hook to end it. 

“Not quite, love,” the villain moaned into her ear. “I don’t think you were loud enough yet. Who is it you want to make you cum? Who, love?”

“You!” she shrieked, banging her breasts against the glass. “Just you, only you, please!”

Gold gripped at his chest as if it possessed a physical wound. It might as well have – his heart had completely broken. 

But how could a broken heart hurt so much? How could every thrust of that evil soul into his Belle make him feel like he was dying? The pain was supposed to be over – broken hearts shouldn’t bleed. 

Belle’s hands smacked against the glass, as if trying to claw away from the monster at her back. Gold bristled - what sort of coward allowed the love of his life to be raped right in front of him? What sort of monster sat back, knowing all the while that his one true love would never get to share her first time with someone she loved?

He was done with being such a pitiful excuse. Magic rose in his fingertips, wild and angry and concrete where he was broken. He focused his mournful rage on Hook, eyes searing into the man’s skull while Belle’s face bashed into the window. He could see the red mark growing on her forehead where she’d collided, and a sick well of pride roared in his stomach when she raised her hand to smack the pirate’s face. 

Belle pulled him close, no doubt to hurt him as he’d hurt her. That’s what Gold hoped. That’s what he prayed. Even when she pressed her lips to his and screamed, “I love you,” as she came. 

The ground spun out from under him, and he staggered against the hard bark to keep him steady. He dry heaved into his palms, tears welling up in his eyes, mouth twisted into an agonized howl. The image of his darling girl’s face filled with ecstasy, of Hook’s malicious glee, was forever burned into his mind.

A brave man, a good man, would march in there and kill Hook regardless - he’d taken something that didn’t belong to him, that Belle would never have given to him if she was in her right mind. A hero would rescue her and take her somewhere safe. 

Gold sobbed loudly into his hands. He’d never been a hero. Never would be. He was always the coward… and this moment, more than any other, proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He was just lucid enough to roll behind the tree when Hook came by, to quieten his ragged sobs so he wouldn’t be seen. If it weren’t for Bae, he wouldn’t care - let the villain kill him, he had nothing to live for. But he still had a son, and he couldn’t take that risk. 

“That night I rode in glorious style, and other things besides,” he sang, walking crooked and straightening his leather breeches as he went. Another swarm of bile roiled in Gold’s stomach at the thought of what was making him limp. “And on her lily white stomach, Boys, I had such wonderful rides…”

It was a near miss, but he just kept himself from puking into the mud. This was depraved. He was done just sitting here. He was done feeling sorry for himself. His Belle needed somebody. She was scared, alone, disgusted, defiled. His heart, splintered as it was, ached at the thought. Regardless of what she’d said (screamed, in ecstasy, that evil little voice in his mind prodded), he knew that his Belle had to be in pain. He just hoped she’d let him pick up the pieces, put her back together like he should have with their cup.

Gold prepared himself for the worst, quickly running through the most disgusting scenarios he could think of. She’d need his help, and it wouldn’t do to break down when she needed something strong. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. 

The breath he’d taken whooshed out like it had been kicked from him. His Belle stood almost naked by the moonlit window, slowly pulling on her underwear as if even that small an action hurt her. Gold’s fingers clenched – he’d kill the son of a bitch, slaughter him. No one should treat a woman this way, much less his darling Belle. He moved to speak, jerking his arms up and down like a puppet as he debated whether she’d want to be held or not. His eyes flickered to her reflection, hoping it would give him a clue. 

For all his preparation, he was left soulless at what he saw in her eyes. 

She looked at peace. Happy. Whole. But it was so more than that, an emotion he recognized but… no.

It stung him, no longer a dull throbbing ache but an actual shock to his system. His lovely girl was in love. 

She caressed her neck where Hook had bitten her, a happy little smile curling up at her lips. Bile rose again in his throat, and Gold braced himself on the wall before he could be sick. But when he opened his mouth, words, not acid, spilled out.

“How does he hold your hands?”

Belle jumped away from him, hands slipping from the buttons on her blouse so that it hung half-open. He wanted to close it for her, preserve her modesty, make her whole and innocent and everything he’d always wanted. But he couldn’t do it – not with her eyes so full of fear, all of it directed at him. 

“You,” she hissed. A single syllable shouldn’t be able to hold such hatred, especially not when it fell from her gorgeous lips. She sounded so joyful when she’d cried the word to Jones.

His bad leg collapsed underneath him, unwilling to hold him up when he no longer had anything to stand for. The tears fell from his eyes like rain, blurring everything as he staggered onto the nearest chair. 

“How does he hold your hands?” he repeated. “Does he lace his fingers through yours? Does he kiss your palm before touching it because you’re too good for a bastard like him to touch?”

“How dare you call him a bastard! I love him!”

He couldn’t see her face, but her voice, racked with terror, was plain as day. He wished it wasn’t. He wished he could suddenly go deaf. 

He wished he could die. 

“How can you love him, Belle? Does he even know you hate to have your wrists touched?” he choked. “Does he know it reminds you of cuffs and chains? Does he… does he touch your hair when you’re together? When you’re together…” He threw his cane across the room, shouting his agony for the world to hear. “How long did he wait? Did he even have the fucking decency to hold you in his arms before he raped you? Did he, Belle?”

The sobs were loud in his ears, his or hers he didn’t know. All he knew was that the ground beneath his feet shook, even with the chair to hold him up, and he folded to the dirt floor on his knees. 

“I did, Belle. Every fucking night, I stayed awake and held you in my arms. I’d spend hours just pressing kisses to your face because I couldn’t fucking believe I was lucky enough to have you!” 

A noise roiled out of his mouth, maybe a manic laugh or something closer to an animalistic cry. He found himself crawling for her feet, longing for any part of her body he could touch. There had to be some way to make this right, some way to fix everything. 

“I never really had you though,” he moaned, groping at the ground and damning his tears for making everything so faint. “You wanted us to go ahead, you said we were ready but I… I’m such a coward, love. I’m such a damn coward. I said no every time. I was afraid I’d disappoint you, that maybe you didn’t love me as much as you said you did.” 

Something deep in his soul broke – he should’ve known better, should’ve let her touch him when they had the chance. And now they never would.

“Such a FUCKING coward! But at least I held you, Belle! When I was yours, I HELD YOU!” 

He wiped the salt from his face, praying that she’d come running to him any moment, put her arms around his neck and tell him it was okay. 

But the time for her to be brave was gone, and he was never anything more than a broken old man. Broken and breaking further while he watched, aching, as Belle ran out into the trees away from him. His tears mixed with the dust as his forehead slammed into the ground, turning into a puddle of mud beneath his head. 

His Belle hated him. She was in love with another. He no longer knew his son, feared that his son no longer knew himself. There were too many shattered pieces, too much of a mess to clean up. 

He’d ruined everything.

“I held you, Belle. I love you…”


End file.
